we have an understanding
by lunatic fringe
Summary: Rinoa has to say goodbye to a longtime friend.


She is just a few days past thirty when out nowhere, she bursts into tears. Her husband and daughter rush into the house, alarmed by this sudden onset. The picture before them seems normal at first; she is sitting in her favorite chair (it was her mother's), her beloved dog of fifteen or so years at her feet. But then they realize that despite her mistress' sudden bawling, the dog has not lifted her head to comfort the woman. Instead, she raises her eyes to her mistress' husband and daughter, brown eyes glassy but gentle.

Seifer Almasy has always been intelligent, and, despite his behavior in his youth, surprisingly intuitive. It's immediately after the dog has met his gaze that he is able to add the whole scene up.

Rinoa's companion since her teenage years, Angelo, is dying. No signs were ever present, at least as far as disease or this approaching ending were concerned. Even in her old age, Angelo loved to play with Seifer and Rinoa's daughter almost endlessly; in fact, just yesterday afternoon she was frolicking with the child after a late storm had dropped nearly a foot of snow. None of them could ever have guessed that the next day, they would be facing this. Yet here they are now, varying degrees of sadness and confusion present. Rinoa slides out of the chair and onto the floor, folding her legs to the side and placing her hand on Angelo's graying back. She has calmed down a degree, perhaps, but tears are still slipping from her eyes, landing on the dog's fur. (Not that Angelo minds, of course. She's had Rinoa's blood on her coat before. It was once all part of her duty as the faithful canine companion.) Rinoa is silent, speaking to her dog in her mind. She has no doubt that Angelo knows exactly what she's saying. After all, Rinoa had known seemingly out of nowhere that Angelo was planning on dying today. Their understanding and ability to communicate soundlessly (language was a barrier for them) was born of the bond they had established in their many years together.

Seifer lowers himself to the floor now, sitting in front of the dog. Angelo is and was by far the best dog he has ever known, that's for damn sure. Here is a dog he had met one summer fourteen years ago when he'd come to know her mistress (and fallen in love with said mistress as well). However, when Ultimecia had led him down a path of disgrace, this very dog was determined to fight him with everything she had in order to protect her mistress from the attacks he launched on her (it didn't matter that he had been hesitant to do so, because at the time, he was an immediate threat in Angelo's eyes). Yet when the war was over and was pardoned by Rinoa herself (she was the only person whose opinion really mattered to him), Angelo accepted him all over again, digging a hole to bury the proverbial hatchet. Over the years that followed — and as his and Rinoa's relationship grew again — he found himself loving the dog as much as Rinoa did. On their wedding day, he insisted that "the damn dog" (said endearingly) had every right to be there. When their daughter was born, Angelo was amazingly gentle and accepting of the new addition to her family; not once did either parent worry about their child's safety around the dog.

Their daughter has only known Angelo for a relatively short nine years, but the look in her green eyes now suggests longer. She strokes the dog's head with her thin fingers, her tears held back by some tiny, invisible dam (she is her father's daughter in many ways). "Angie," she coos in slight singsong, "Mama and Dad and me think you're a good girl." (She is her mother's daughter in other ways.)

Rinoa changes her position now, lying on her side so her head is parallel with Angelo's. Seifer moves over a little to give her room, and reaches for her hand, which she gladly grasps. She scratches Angelo's ears with her other hand, which makes the dog's tail wag for only a brief second; it's something she's always enjoyed. Rinoa smiles a little, which only makes tears well up more.

"Do you want to be alone?" Seifer asks, a certain gentleness in his voice that he has only ever used for Rinoa.

"No," she says in a half-sigh. "Stay here. She won't have it any other way right now."

He nods. "Alright." With his free hand, he motions for their daughter to sit beside him, and she does, pressing up against her father and draping her arms around his waist. He wraps his arm around her shoulder. She still doesn't cry.

Rinoa sighs and sniffles, then kisses Angelo's muzzle. "Lot of fun we've had, huh? Most of your life's been an adventure, starting from the day I got you. You remember, right? I hid you in my coat pocket because it was January and cold and I didn't want my father to see you right away because I knew he'd tell me to take you back. He didn't find out until two weeks later when you had grown way too fast and I couldn't sneak you out in my pocket anymore. By then, I didn't care what he said because you were mine, and I was yours. Then we left to join the Forest Owls, remember? You hated the train at first because it made you wobbly. But you grew to like it, didn't you?" She stops to take a breath; Angelo closes her eyes. Rinoa continues. "Then we met Seifer, and he liked to take you running, which you loved. You've always liked Seifer and it confused you to fight him, didn't it? But then you got to be friends with him again, and after we were married, before the baby, I came home from work every night to see you curled up beside him. He always let you on the couch and on the bed, even though I didn't want you to be on them at first because it was our first house and I was trying too hard to keep everything spotless. I'm sorry for that, by the way. But I know you forgive me."

As Rinoa withdraws her hand from his, Seifer feels Angelo's chest with his newly freed hand. "Her heart's slowing down, 'Noa," he whispers.

She nods, and continues. "You were my first dog ever, and even though they say the first one is always the toughest, we never had any problems. We understood each other perfectly. You were perfect. You _are _perfect. I'll miss you, but I understand that it's time for you to go, because I understand you."

Seifer has kept his hand on Angelo's chest the entire time, and after Rinoa says the final word, he looks at her. "Rinoa, she–"

"I know," she replies, and her tears seem to have dried for the most part. "That was the last thing she needed to hear, and after she heard it, she knew she could go."

* * *

**a/n:** This is dedicated to all pet owners who have had to say goodbye to their beloved companion, whether it was a dog, cat, horse, or anything else.

I've lost two cats myself, one in November of 2005 and the other in April of this year, so I'm kind of late to write this. The idea kind of attacked me while I was reading _Chicken Soup for the Cat & Dog Lover's Soul_, so I just went to town.

I'm a fan of Seifer/Rinoa (if you couldn't tell), but I could have just as easily written this with Rinoa only; in fact, that's how I planned on writing it at first. However, I thought it would be interesting to add Seifer – as well as their daughter – because everyone knows how Rinoa would take it; how about the whole family? They each had their own take on Angelo's death... which actually gave me more to write about. XD

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
